Secret
by gf7
Summary: Every day, multiple horrific cases comes across JJ's desk and she has to make a choice. How she deals with making the wrong one...Set early S4.


**Author's Note:** Something that has been percolating in my head, a potential prologue to a slightly larger piece, but it could very easily stand on its own. Takes place early season 4, before JJ has had her baby, but after the events of the first 2 eps. Would love to know what you thought. As always, thanks.

* * *

She has a secret.

They all have secrets. Parts of themselves that they don't want to share. Nightmares from the past, fears for the future.

Her secret involves her job.

And the stack of files that sits upon her desk.

She makes a choice. Every day. This case or that case.

A long time ago, she created a system for it. Risk assessment. How many lives? What kind of impact? It's cold and dark and she hates it.

It saves her soul.

That's what she tells herself. That's how she survives.

That and her secret.

Most of the time she sends flowers. She has an account with an online florist. She uses it so often that she even gets discounts now. She'll send a simple but eloquent bouquet. No card. This isn't about her.

Well not exactly anyway.

She pays for the flowers out of her own paycheck, never says a word about it to anyone.

Once or twice she's made a donation to a charity in the name of the family.

It's all terribly expensive, but she doesn't care. To not do so would bankrupt her spiritually.

Usually the flowers are enough to help her sleep.

Not this time, however. This time, she does something she's never done before; she books a plane ticket.

She knows she needs to be there.

She needs to face her guilt.

Because it's killing her.

Every night she wakes up thinking of a five year old child that she knows her team could have saved.

But she hadn't chosen that case.

And flowers aren't nearly enough to clean this guilt away.

* * *

It's a long flight all the way from DC to California. She keeps herself busy with paperwork, finishing up reports, updating other cases. She tries not to think about why she's making this trip.

She tries not to think about what the others would think if they knew that she wasn't going home to visit family.

They could find out easily enough if they wanted to – the ticket to Los Angeles would be a pretty good indicator of her lie, but she hopes that she sold her story well enough to keep them from wondering.

She hopes that they're busy with their own secrets.

Halfway through the trip, the handsome young man sitting next to her starts to chat her up. He apparently doesn't care that she's pregnant and likely taken.

She trades conversation with him, agreeably lamenting the sad state of the Washington Redskins. He finally moves onto the elephant in the room, so to speak.

"So when are you due?" he asks.

She smiles. "Late November."

He does the math quickly – seven months – and then registers surprise. "Should you be flying?"

She doesn't tell him that when she gets back to Quantico, she'll likely be jumping on another plane. He thinks because she's pregnant that she's fragile. Normally she'd correct her, but she sees no need to do so now. Instead, simply, "I have something I have to take care of."

"Oh."

And for a few long minutes, nothing more is said.

Her mind drifts during this time. Back to her job. She knows she's near the end of her active duty. It won't be much longer until Hotch grounds her.

They're both just delaying the inevitable.

She's glad for it.

Because she's not ready to be in the rear with the gear.

Because she likes to be with the team, helping out, making a difference.

And because if she's completely honest with herself, she still hasn't sold herself on being a mother.

It's not that she doesn't love the baby inside of her. She does. She did instantly.

It's not that she doesn't love Will LaMontagne. She does. He's a good man and she knows he'll be a good father.

Thing is, she'd just never thought about all of this.

Well that's a bit of a lie.

Of course she had. In the way one thinks about a Disney fairytale. Something that would be fantastic, but a bit unrealistic. Something you grow out of by the time you break up with your first boyfriend.

Her job is her life.

It is her meaning, her purpose.

This child inside her, it terrifies her.

It changes everything.

She thinks about Will. Good natured and old fashioned. She adores him, but he annoys her. He understands her need for the job as a fellow cop, but she can tell he wishes she'd ask to be reassigned because he worries about her.

He wants to protect her.

She's not used to that.

Sure, her team has always protected her. But as one of their own, rarely as a woman. They've always seen her as tough and independent. They know she can do her job as well as any of them can. They know she's just as strong as they are. They see the Federal Agent and the friend.

Will definitely sees the woman and the mother to be.

She has to get used to that.

It's harder than she thought it would be.

For instance, she knows that Will would flip out if he knew that she had taken this trip.

So she had lied to him as well. Told him them the same lie. Home to see the family, back by Sunday night.

He had offered to come with her, suggesting maybe it was time to meet everyone. She had agreed that it was time what with a baby on the way and all but then just as he had reached for his overnight bag, she'd changed things up and asked him to wait anyway.

He had relented but she could tell that she had hurt him.

He'd said it once before…it was clear who was the one who had one foot out the door in this relationship.

She hates to admit it, but he's right. She's the one that keeps resisting. Even now, even with a baby on the way.

She thinks maybe her secret is why.

"So do you have a name in mind?" the young man asks finally. She'd almost forgotten about him.

"Not yet. We're still…working on it."

"We," he says slowly, almost to himself.

She smiles.

Again, they fall into silence.

She rather wishes he would keep talking because as much as she has no interest in him, at least he keeps her from being alone with her thoughts.

But he's sulking now and so her mind returns to why she's making this trip to California.

Deep down, she knows that everything is somehow meeting in the middle.

All of her fears, all of her guilt.

It's all coming together.

She knows that sooner or later she's going to have face all of it.

She's hoping to delay it for just a little bit longer.

* * *

It's raining in Los Angeles when the plane sets down. She's not surprised. She had almost expected as much.

As she disembarks, the young man smiles at her and says "Good luck." She thanks him and they go their separate ways.

Her phone rings as she's walking. She looks down at it, prays that it's not job related because she knows she'll never get back in time to be able to keep them from wondering.

When she looks at the name on the screen, however, it says Will. She takes a breath and answers it.

"Hey," she says with a smile, hoping that the tone carries across the line, all the way back to New Orleans.

He's still there, at least for now, waiting on his transfer to DC to be approved.

They'll live together then.

That will be a whole other set of adjustments.

"Hey, Darlin'," he replies, almost lazily. "How's home?"

"Just got here," she lies easily. "Weather delays."

"Oh. You feeling okay?"

"I feel fine," she assures him. And then adds, "The baby does as well. We feel fine."

"Good. Well I won't keep you from doing…" there's a strange pause and then he finishes with, "…doing whatever you're doing."

"Okay."

"Say hi to everyone for me, okay?"

"Will do."

"I love you, JJ."

"I love you, too."

"Bye."

He hangs up first. She stares at the phone, feeling oddly unnerved by the conversation though she's not sure why.

She decides to think about it later.

Right now, she has a funeral to get to.

* * *

Her name was Cody Ryan. She had blonde hair and green eyes. Her room had pictures of ponies all around it.

She'd celebrated her fifth birthday at a roller-rink.

That's where he'd seen her.

He'd been working there, just a nondescript nineteen-year-old kid manning the snack bar. No priors, just a history of some pretty creepy behavior.

All of it waved off as being wacky growing up stuff.

Apparently the world had gotten so crazy that a teenager stalking a five year old wasn't the kind of thing that made the police stop in their tracks.

It hadn't made her either.

She had seen the case, a desperate plea for help from the family. They hadn't known who was leaving presents for their daughter, who was taking pictures of her, but they'd been scared out of their minds.

The local police had done a cursory investigation, said they were sure it was just a weird prank.

All was well.

The case had come across her desk, she'd looked it over and then passed it up for a triple homicide.

Three days later, Cody Ryan had been kidnapped, raped and murdered by that nineteen year old.

The kid had been found with her body, crying, angry that he'd destroyed the object of his obsession.

The parents had gone on TV, told the world that this could have been stopped if someone had paid attention.

"I just wish that someone would have thought of my baby as theirs and then maybe they would have done something to help her before it was too late…" her mother had sobbed into the greedy camera.

Her words had struck home.

None of the others knew that the case had come across her desk. That she'd turned it away.

That, too, was her secret.

In her defense, she had turned the file over to the Child Crimes Division. Their files had shown that they hadn't done much to it yet.

Now, none of that mattered anymore.

It was too late.

Maybe all that was left now was an apology to a casket.

* * *

She isn't surprised to find the church full. It seemed like everyone in town had come out to pay their last respects to this tiny little angel.

She stands at the back, watching the ceremony, watching the parents crying in each other's arms.

And listening as speaker after speaker angrily denounces the fact that no one had helped Cody.

Her hands clench hard, she fights for control.

The baby inside her kicks, awakened by her distress.

The world around her swirls for a moment and everything gets light and airy. She mentally begs her legs not to give out on her. Begs them not to steal this moment away from Cody's family.

The baby kicks again; the pain in her belly growing worse.

But still she stays rooted to her spot in the back of the church, listening to the heartbroken words of a mother who wanted nothing more than to go home and have a fake tea party with her child.

Time flies away from her and before she knows it, the tiny casket is being carried past her. Cody's parents following quickly after it, the husband holding the wife.

Once they're out of the church, she allows herself to stagger towards a pew. She practically falls into it, wincing in pain, not sure whether it's physical or mental.

"Are you okay?" a voice asks from nearby. She feels a cool hand on her shoulder.

She forces herself to nod, even as she's wincing.

"Are you sure? You look like you need a doctor. Are you…are you going into labor?"

"No," she replies. "I just…I need a moment." She glances up and into the concerned eyes of an elderly woman. She smiles slightly, sickly.

Somehow, the woman seems to understand. As much as she can anyway. "It's upsetting," she says.

"Yeah."

"This shouldn't have happened."

"No."

"Someone should have stopped this."

She can't answer that, the pain in her stomach flaring once more. The baby kicks again, unsettled, unnerved.

"You're sure you don't need a doctor?" the woman repeats.

"I'm sure. Thank you."

"Okay," comes the reply and then the woman is gone. Outside to join the rest of the crowd. She doesn't follow, doesn't think she has the right to be standing with the others, asking why no one came to help.

* * *

She'd thought about what she should do the whole flight in. Should she use her badge to gain access to the cemetery, to bypass the armed guards, which had been put in place to protect the privacy of the family?

No. That would be an intrusion.

And it would make this all about her.

So instead, she goes to the candlelight vigil. In the dripping rain. She wears a heavy jacket, holds a small candle in her palms and protects a flickering flame.

She wishes that she had done it sooner.

On her way back to her hotel, she stops by the cemetery. Flowers are piled around the grave – an angel. A marker reads: Our baby, never forgotten, always in our hearts.

Surprised, but thankful to be alone for a few moments, she sits down next to the grave. She touches the marker.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, unshed tears in her eyes. She brushes them away, toughens up. Lets the rain create the moisture.

And then using a BIC lighter that she had picked up at the local gas station for ninety-eight cents, she re-lights the candle, places it down next to the grave and watches the flame dance around.

She doesn't leave until the candle runs out of wax.

* * *

Her sleep is disturbed and uncomfortable. It's been like this for weeks now, the size of her body and the awareness of the child inside of her making it difficult to get any kind of meaningful rest.

That she has a lot on her mind only added to the insomnia.

Finally, realizing that sleep isn't going to come, she picks up her cell phone. She starts to dial Will's number and then stops. She scrolls through the contacts until she reaches the G's. She clicks.

Three rings and then, "Jayje?"

"Hey, Garcia," she says quietly.

The shuffle of sheets and blankets and then, "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Is the baby okay?"

"I just need to talk."

"Oh…okay."

A few long seconds pass.

"JJ?"

"Yeah?"

"Usually one talks by speaking."

"Right. Maybe I just need you to talk, okay? Tell me about how your day was. Tell me something silly."

"You're scaring me."

"No, really, I'm okay…I just…"

"Why are you calling from Los Angeles?"

"What?"

"Jayje, I have my laptop up and I'm tracking your cell…"

"Why?"

"Because something is wrong with you and since you're supposed to be home with your family…but you're not…"

"No."

"Why are you in Los Angeles?"

"Garcia, I can't…I just…please, humor me."

A beat and then Garcia replies, "Okay, I'll humor you if your promise me that you and the baby are okay."

"We are."

"And you promise that when you'll get back here, you'll actually talk to me about what's upsetting you."

Another pause and then she relents, "Okay."

"Okay. Then I've got a story about Morgan and Em."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

It's a good story, a distracting one and afterwards, she's able to find a few hours of sleep.

* * *

She gets back into town at just after eight on Sunday evening. From her car, she calls Will. They chat for a few moments and she feels bad about lying to him.

Because he loves her and only wants to take care of her and their baby.

Because though it's hard for her to allow herself to be taken care of, she doesn't think it'd be such a bad thing and she knows that she could do a whole lot worse.

And she does love him, too.

She goes back to her townhouse and lies in bed, staring at the ceiling all night, feeling the baby move inside of her, still not quite believing how quickly her life has changed.

* * *

In the morning, she gets to work and buries herself away in her office, behind a comfortable stack of paperwork.

At just after ten AM, Garcia enters with two cups of coffee. "So, let's talk," she says, eerily serious.

Thankfully, Hotch appears behind her. "It'll have to wait, in the room in three minutes."

Garcia gives her a look that says "this isn't over."

But she rather hopes it is. She hopes that the case will distract them all and cause Garcia to forget about it.

She hopes that her mental weakness from the previous night will fade away and that she can return to keeping her secret safe.

She knows that if she told Garcia the truth, her friend will understand, but this isn't something that she wants to be understood.

This is something that she wants to keep to herself.

Because these are her choices.

People live and die because of them.

That's her guilt to carry. She can deal with it.

She decides that next time, no matter what, she'll just send flowers.

It's safer, it hurts less.

She can protect herself better.

And when it's all said done, she realizes that that is half of the problem; she has to learn how to share her pain.

With Will. With the others.

Eventually, maybe.

For now, it remains her secret.

-FIN


End file.
